If anything could top Harry, Ron and Hermione's relief at having survived their trip into their Forest and the letter reassuring them that the Stone was safe it was what happened the next day. Malfoy, who had clearly planned his moment of glory for a long time, told Snape about Norbert. Malfoy got Snape to search Hagrid's hut where, of course, there was no dragon. Harry, Ron and Hermione were worried that Hagrid might give the game away because Hagrid was looking heartbroken and was, although he was clearly trying to be discreet, looking for Norbert all over the place, but Hagrid surprised them all. Hagrid, who was not a natural liar and even more uncomfortable at lying to teachers, told Snape that his flustered actions, appearance and his tears were due to the fact that one of his Hippogriffs had died that morning. Snape gave Malfoy a detention on the spot for lying and wasting his time. Malfoy looked confused and furious that he had once again been outwitted and even Hermione had to laugh.

However, their light heartedness could not last for long. Their exams were now upon them and the teachers were working them harder than ever, leaving little time to think about the Stone or the hooded figure in the Forest. It was made even worse by the swelteringly hot weather. When they longed to laze around outside and even go swimming in the lake they were forced to stay inside and revise. Although Harry hated to admit it, he enjoyed Potions in the dungeons because it was one of the only places in the castle that was cool.

Although the letter from Sirius and Remus reassured him, Harry couldn't relax. His scar kept burning and it was all Harry could do to not show any sign of pain. He couldn't sleep either, his old nightmare had returned, except now the scream was louder and the green flash illuminated the same hooded figure that he had seen in the Forest. Ron and Hermione on the other hand seemed perfectly happy to forget all about the Stone. Hermione told him that his nightmares were probably the result of exam nerves and that he should go to Madam Pomfrey about his scar, but Harry refused.

At long last their final exam came. It was History of Magic. Harry even thought that he might have scraped a pass, thanks to the combined efforts of Remus and Hermione who, between them, had managed to bludgeon some facts into his brain. Harry had had to grit his teeth and write just the facts, forcing himself not to write his opinions when it came to questions on the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the 'emergency measures' that meant prisoners like Sirius could be sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban with no trial. He felt better, though, when he relieved his feelings in a letter to Sirius and Remus.

"That was a lot easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as she wrung her hands, "really no trouble at all. Although I did find the questions on the Wand Restriction Acts particularly hard, I really don't think I did it justice. I completely forgot to write about goblins." Ron rolled his eyes and Harry and Harry grinned back. Hermione liked to go over their exam papers after the exams and would always panic that she had failed everything. Harry and Ron had given up trying to reassure that there was no way she had failed, as she was by far the cleverest witch in the year. She would just snap and turn the full brunt of her panic fuelled anger on them, so they had learnt to zone her out and nod in the right places.

Maybe it was because Harry didn't have exams to concentrate on anymore but he had started worrying about the Stone again, leading Ron to tell him he was becoming obsessed and he should just relax. Harry, however, couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something he was missing, something important, just then Hedwig came in with a letter.

Dear Harry,

Well done on the end of exams. History of Magic must have been a pain but after dragons and shadowy figures it must have been a doddle. As the Muggles used to say 'Keep Calm And Carry On'.

Enjoy this week of freedom before you get the dreaded results.

Canis and Moony

Harry chuckled. "What is it?" asked Ron, wondering whether Harry would tell him. Lots of times Harry apologised and said he couldn't tell him what was in the letter, but this time Harry handed the letter over. "They know about the dragon?"

"Yeah, well," replied Harry casually, "they broke most of the rules when they were at school so they can't really talk."

"Wow," said Ron in an awe filled voice. Hermione just looked disapproving, but said nothing. She had learnt the hard way that it wouldn't make a difference.

"Wait," said Harry as a terrible thought struck him, "dragons."

"What about them?" asked Ron lazily, Harry jumped up from the armchair and ran towards the portrait of the Fat Lady,

"Don't you think it's just a bit odd, " he said in a rush as Ron and Hermione ran to keep up with him, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else in the world is a dragon and some stranger just happens to have a dragon egg on them? If it were illegal you wouldn't go around with dragon eggs in your pocket. Why didn't I see it before? We've got to see Hagrid."

Their visit to Hagrid, however, didn't reassure them. Despite what Hagrid had said a mysterious hooded figure that had gotten Hagrid drunk and found out the secret to calming Fluffy did not seem completely innocent. "We've got to tell Dumbledore," said Hermione immediately,

"We already have," replied Harry, "he already knows."

"Then what do we do?" asked Ron, Harry rubbed his scar,

"I'm going down there. Tonight." He said, surprising even himself.

"You. Are. Insane." Said Ron, "You hear me? Why do you want to go down the trapdoor?"

"I don't know," replied Harry, "Its my scar, it keeps hurting and I can't … Dumbledore's away anyway, remember? I bet Snape or whoever's trying to steal that Stone for Voldemort sent that letter to get Dumbledore out of the castle so they'll be trying to steal the Stone tonight. And it's not like anyone else would believe us. I'll use my Cloak." Hermione looked thoughtful,

"Do you think it will cover all three of us?" Harry stared at her and Ron grinned,

"You don't think we'd let you do something this mad by yourself do you? We kidnapped Norbert with you, we went into the Forest with you, and we almost died with you. We're coming with you mate." Harry grinned back and said,

"Yeah, I reckon it will."

Quirrell prepared himself to go through the trapdoor and steal the Stone. "Soon my lord," he murmured and he felt a slither of annoyance pass through him. Quirrell often felt his master's moods, joined as they were, although this time he was sure it was entirely deliberate on his master's part, intended to scare him. His master hated empty promises and when he babbled pointlessly, an unfortunate habit of his that his master had been training him out of. His master would only be happy when the Stone was held in his newly restored hand. Quirrell scurried to the Third Floor Corridor.

Dumbledore leant back in his chair in the Ministry. He had an idea of what was going to happen tonight and his conscience was prickling him. He did not like the idea of effectively throwing an eleven year old boy at even a weakened Voldemort, but he knew Harry deserved the chance to face him and, he reassured himself, he would be ready to step in should Harry be in any real danger.

Fred nudged George, "Look," he said, pointing to the Marauder's Map, "Ron's sneaking off to the Third Floor Corridor, and Harry and Hermione." George grinned,

"Looks like our little brother might not be such a wimp after all, and I always knew Harry was a good kid. Hermione though, from what I've heard she's like a mini Percy," the twins mock shuddered thinking about their rule obsessed brother, "maybe she's not so bad after all. Hey, looks like Quirrell's heading there as well, seems the place to be tonight. Did we ever figure out why Quirrell looks weird on the map?" Fred shrugged,

"Probably 'cause he is weird. Doesn't really matter, he'll be gone by the end of the year, they always are." He spotted something, perked up, grinned and whispered, "Anyway, enough of that, Snape's coming, get the fireworks ready."

Quirrell charmed his harp to stop playing as soon as he had gone through the trapdoor, he couldn't risk anybody following him. He jumped and fell. Cold, damp air rushed passed him and he whipped out his wand in case he needed to break his fall but it was so dark he could not see the bottom. Quite suddenly he landed on something soft, it seemed to be some sort of plant. Quirrell was not so naïve as to think that the plant was merely there to break his fall and sure enough he soon felt snake like tendrils wrapping around him, trapping him. He struggled, but that only made the plant hold him tighter. If only he could see what the plant was he would know how to kill it. Then it struck him, if the plant, whatever it was, liked the dark and damp room then it would not like fire and so he conjured a fire.

Soon Quirrell was free as the plant cringed away from the fire and he walked down the stone passageway. He was reminded unpleasantly of Gringotts and his last failure. He prayed desperately to gods he didn't believe in that he might be more successful this time, that he might be spared his master's wrath.

The next obstacle presented more of a challenge for Quirrell. He had to catch one of the flying keys out of hundreds and he had never been much of a Quidditch player, preferring to study instead. He tried, desperately, to summon the key he needed but, as he had expected, that didn't work. He had to play by the rules and catch the key. Quirrell picked up a broomstick and hoped. It took him an hour in the end, an hour of randomly grabbing keys and trying them out. He had almost given up hope and was trembling with fear as he felt his master grow impatient and angry when he finally caught the right key.

Luckily the next challenge didn't present nearly as much of a problem for Quirrell. He was good at chess, although he was a little out of practice. The only problem was he would only get one chance to play. He chose to play as the king, as it was the safest piece on the board and even if he lost the game he might have a chance of fighting his way across the board the traditional way, with his wand.

The next obstacle was his own, the troll, which he had put there because he knew it would be easy for him to overcome thanks to his strange gift with trolls. He murmured the strange words which always seemed to calm them and troll fell flat on its back. Qurrell smiled grimly when he saw that the fall had given the troll a bloody lump on its head; anybody who saw the troll wouldn't think that the troll had been, for want of a better word, hypnotised but merely knocked out.

Quirrell pulled open the next door, hardly daring to look at what came next because he knew it would be Snape's challenge. He dreaded Snape not only because he knew Snape's challenge would be particularly nasty but he had come to fear the burning anger that filled him whenever his master's old servant was mentioned. Sure enough when he entered the room his whole head burned and he struggled to keep his eyes open through the pain.

In the room there was a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing in line. As he stepped over the threshold a fire sprang up in the doorway behind him and another fire sprang up in the doorway leading onwards. He was trapped. On the table there was a roll of paper lying next to the bottles, he slowly and carefully read Snape's distinctive scrawl.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.

Quirrell read on, his frustration gradually mounting. It was a riddle. How like Snape, but he read the hateful words over and over again until he finally figured it out and drunk a mouthful of the smallest bottle. It was like ice flowing through his body and when he walked through the black flames all he felt was a gentle tickling sensation. For a while all he saw was black flames, then he was through to the final chamber. Dumbledore's challenge.

All he saw was a mirror. The fabled mirror of Erised, the Stone was obviously hidden inside it somehow but he could not see how to get it out. When he looked in the mirror he saw himself presenting the Stone to his master. "One of Dumbledore's tricks no doubt," he hissed, "presumably there is no way of getting to the Stone if the viewer has a desire to use it."

"But then my lord there is no-" Quirrell panicked,

"Silence Quirrell. Even if that is indeed Dumbledore's intention I will get the Stone. Every lock can be broken even if one does not possess the key. Now silence."

That silence, however, never came as someone else stumbled through the doorway. Harry Potter.